


Blind Corner

by Valeria2067



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/pseuds/Valeria2067
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's PTSD flares up, and he cannot see what is so obvious to everyone else - especially to Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Corner

**Author's Note:**

> For my darling

"Just leave it, Sherlock. I know you want to help, and I'm grateful, but nothing can fix this. I've tried."

John turned over on his side and faced away from the tall man sitting on the edge of the bed. The PTSD-related anxiety and depression had flared up out of nowhere, and it was the most intense either man could remember.

"But it's getting worse, John. I don't want you to suffer this way." Sherlock reached out and laid a hand on John's curled-up knee.

"Maybe I deserve it. Maybe it's what I get for my misspent youth. For...some of the things I had to do in the war. Hell, maybe for a heart or two I've broken."

Sherlock started to say something, then changed his mind. Instead, he stood, walked over to the dresser, and pulled out a thin, satin scarf. 

John raised an eyebrow. Trust Sherlock to think that kink and physical gratification might be the answer. "Umm, really, I'm not in the mood, OK?" John said, trying to keep the full level of annoyance out of his voice.

Sherlock paid no attention. Instead, he held the scarf up to the light.  A moment later he was moving John's knees aside to sit down on John's side of the bed.

"Did you hear me, Sherlock? Can we not..."

Sherlock placed two elegant fingers over John's lips. "This isn't what you think. Roll onto your back, please."

John uttered something between a sigh and a groan, but he complied.

"Now," Sherlock continued, "Keep your eyes open, rather than closed, as I do this."

The scarf wrapped very lightly over John's eyes, barely making contact with the bridge of his nose.

"Tell me what you see, John."

John moved his eyes, and his gaze took in the room. "I see you. I see the room. I can see through this scarf, Sherlock. What is the point-"

"Wait," Sherlock took a slip of paper and a pen from the bedside table. He wrote something carefully, and he held it up in front of John. "What does this say?"

John struggled to read the words through the fabric and the faint paisley pattern of the scarf.

"It says...John. And I can't read the next bit, and  then 'never' I think."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, there's something at the end, but I can't make it out."

Sherlock bent down and removed the scarf from John's eyes. "Try it now. Can you read it to me?"

John looked at the message, exactly where it had been seconds ago.

"It says," John swallowed for a moment, "It says, 'John, I will love you forever. This will get better. Trust me, Love." Teardrops began to well in John's eyes.

"Ah. And that's what it said the whole time, wouldn't you agree? You just couldn't see it."

John nodded.

"And that's what this is, John. You are strong, and you are worthy of being loved and being well. But part of your mind is temporarily blindfolded. Not completely, just a bit. Enough to distort what you perceive."

John's hand reached out and held Sherlock's tight.

"We'll find another doctor, perhaps try medication. But we will beat this, John, won't we?"

"Yes, Love," John whispered.  

 


End file.
